More matter with less art.
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties
And nothing is, but what is not.
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.